Tuesday, June 17, 2014

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The great Tony Gwynn has died, and I've always been a fan of his for his hitting. Turns out it was easy to root for him as a person as well, based on the outpouring of unconditional respect and admiration of baseball writers everywhere.

When I was very young, we went to the Cleveland Museum of Art. There, I saw a woman standing in front of a painting, and she was actually crying. I don’t recall it being a sad painting. My mother leaned down to me and whispered, “See, the painting is so beautiful, it breaks her heart and makes her cry.”

This made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

But then, I had not yet seen Tony Gwynn hit a baseball. [...]

Gwynn was also a wonderful man, full of generosity and spirit. Before the 2012 All-Star Game, I did an event with him called “The Art of Hitting.” He already knew by then that he had cancer of the salivary gland – he believed it was due to the years he spent dipping tobacco. He suffered privately, but he refused to stop living. In the years after he stopped playing, he coached at San Diego State, and he talked baseball on television, and he talked hitting with anyone who was interested. I remember Dodgers outfielder Matt Kemp showed up for “The Art of Hitting” talk. Kemp said he never thought twice about it.